


Glory Days

by taxomin (CyanCheetah)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Humor, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Marriage, Near Child Death, Near Death, Original Character-centric, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26941846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanCheetah/pseuds/taxomin
Summary: His death wasn’t beautiful—it was gory and sticky, painful, excruciating, it sunk into his memory and he couldn’t shake the feeling away. It wasn’t a tragedy, it was a horror story.ORA man is reborn into the Naruto universe and everything turns for the worst.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Glory Days

**Author's Note:**

> bro idek what this story is—

Death was approaching, fast, furious, and Rowan wanted to die in a blaze of glory. A bullet to the head was not glorious and it would never be, so that was a dream long dead, next to the many others he’d filed away. His death wasn’t beautiful—it was gory and sticky, painful, excruciating, it sunk into his memory and he couldn’t shake the feeling away. It wasn’t a tragedy, it was a  _ horror story _ . 

Rowan Beaumont died on a Friday night, scantily clad in the uniform of a male dancer working the pole, by a bullet to the head. He was twenty-three. He had no family, or more precisely, had no family that would claim him. Rowan was a singer, dancer, and a crossdresser. Rowan had many dreams. One of them had been to pour his lyrics out of his heart and spill them on a stage, in front of millions, and inspire, _inspire,_ _inspire_. For this, he had wanted to live. For this, he clung to the last dregs of his life, promising to his soul and wherever it would go, that he would fulfill at least one dream.

Flamboyant though he was, he was also very determined, and on a Friday night, while his life fell away, the flicker of a goal pierced the foundations of the world. On a Friday night, Rowan Beaumont died, and on that same day, a child was born.

* * *

The midwives shudder, hands glued to the skin of a dead baby. There’s a moment of tension then, where the mother is weak but has the strength to curl into herself and the father’s face is pale, so pale that the vacantness in his eyes could mistake him for a corpse. The baby doesn’t cry, or move, or even breathe, and Inori, the midwife holding him, is struck by her own sense of grief. She stares unblinking at the child who’s eyes stay closed, and she could have believed he was sleeping if not for the lack of a heartbeat.

“My baby!” The mother wails, trembling under the blankets and sheets. Her hand reaches out for her husband. “Eiji, our  _ baby _ .”

“I know.” He whispers, brimming with tears that do not fall.

Inori wraps the child up in a blanket and, with hesitant fingers, holds him out to the mother. The woman looks terrified, eyes wide and mouth pulled into a twitching line, so the father cradles the baby instead. “After a neonatal death, it is… often best for the parents to spend some time with the child.” Inori sighs before continuing. “Arrangements can be made for a funeral whenever you wish. We’ll leave you alone for now.”

The other midwives are silent, heads bowed in mourning and respect. Inori taps them both and gestures for them to leave, and once they begin to exit the room, she follows closely after. Another stream of grief aches in her heart, and she can’t help but feel as though she has failed, phenomenally so, and pledges to properly mourn the baby in her own time, and to pay her respects whenever a funeral is held. Most parents are frazzled and unsure of what to do when their child dies upon birth, so she’ll probably be guiding her dear friends, Reina and Eiji, through the process.

“Wait,” Reina starts, voice a mere wisp of her usual tone. Inori pauses and turns to regard her. “Isn’t there anything you can do? You’re a medic-nin, aren’t you?”

“The child is already dead. There’s nothing more that can be done. I am a healer, Reina, not a miracle worker.” She delivers her words with a measured finality and a slight tremble in her lips.

Reina stares at her, features sloped downwards like a painting of sadness, and Inori aches woefully. If she could have helped the child then she would have done so without a moment’s hesitation, but a healer can only heal the living. Death is a permanent condition.

As the punctuation of Inori’s words echoes throughout the cold, somber room, a soft hiccuping interrupts it. Inori blinks, eyes focused on the mouths of Reina and Eiji, both faces remaining neutral, and then she searches the perimeter to spot a wayward midwife. No one else is there. Finally, her eyes land on the bundle of a child in Eiji’s arms and she realizes, in amazement, that it is squirming and writhing. This development is not lost on Reina, certainly not lost on Eiji, and the room erupts in noise. Eiji sobs and Reina cries out, hands reaching for the child, and Inori shouts for the other midwives.

“A miracle!” One of the midwives yell, rushing alongside Inori to glimpse the baby’s condition. Inori unwraps the bundle and softly tugs the child from Eiji’s shocked grip.

The baby is… alive. His skin is a bright, glistening caramel with soft black curls and green eyes, and he giggles, bubbly and sweet. The sour tones that sullied the room lift into relief, and like a breeze in the smoldering desert, the baby’s touch refreshes Inori’s spirit. Inori eases her chakra into the child’s body and evaluates his internal facilities. All of his organs are functioning correctly, even his heart, which hadn’t been beating only moments ago. Though eventually, Inori comes upon something alarming. The baby’s chakra coils are developed, far more than they should be, and from what she can tell, the ratio of spiritual to physical energy is skewed in favor of his spiritual. She retracts her chakra and looks at his parents.

“His organs are up to par, nothing out of place.” Reina near faints from relief. “However, his chakra coils seemed to have developed early, and he’s experiencing chakra imbalance.”

Eiji blinks. “His coils? And… chakra imbalance? I need some clarification.”

“This is beyond my area of expertise, I have to say. You’ll need to visit the hospital for a proper diagnosis. I’ll register you for an appointment.” Inori smiles. “Other than that, he’s a healthy baby boy. I’m relieved, you two.”

She bundles the baby into a blanket and hands him over to Reina. “What’s his name?”

Eiji stares into Reina’s eyes, sharing a moment of careful love. They’d deliberated over his name multiple times, occasionally devolving into arguments, many of which Inori was present to see. But, in this moment, they come to an easy conclusion. Reina speaks first. “His name is Reiji.”

“Asano Reiji.”

Inori thinks it’s a beautiful name.

* * *

For a long time, the world doesn’t make sense. Solid shapes don’t exist and all the colors of the rainbow twirl around each other in a tie dye tango. Reiji  _ hates _ tie dye so the experience is an uncomfortable one, and he wonders if it's his punishment for being an atheist heathen, trapped in a world of hippie-chic color patterns.

* * *

Asano Eiji is a proud man, assured in his marriage and his career, but the childish squeal of  _ ‘no!’ _ building in his throat is difficult to ignore. Reina, his wife, smoothes her curls into a small puff and lifts baby Reiji out of the crib and into her arms, jostling the child into awareness.

Reiji is the cutest baby he’s seen, ever, rubbing at his eyes with a soft fist and sloping his lips into a pout that only babies can do, the corners of his mouth turned down and his bottom lip poking out beneath his gums. He’s already started growing hair, coiled tufts of curls feathered along his scalp, taking largely after his mother in that department, but Eiji can say that those eyes, green as the lily pads in their garden, are from him. Affection bubbles in his chest, and Eiji stares, entranced by the image of his family.

“Eiji, he needs to get a checkup.” Reina multitasks, swiping clothes from the drawer and tugging them onto Reiji’s tiny body. “It’s not about you, hun. Something might be wrong with him and we gotta figure it out.”

The trance is shattered. He watches with creased eyebrows, worrying his lip between his teeth. “I’m aware.” Eiji snarks, before Reina gives him a  _ look _ and he clicks his tongue. “It’s not that I don’t want him to get a checkup, it’s just that… the hospital, it—it’s unpleasant to be in. Most shinobi aren’t fond of that type of environment.”

Reina fits the baby’s shoes onto his feet, kissing Reiji on the forehead with a tender smile. Eiji almost smiles, too, but drops it when she gives him a side-eye, a frown carved into her face like the Hokage Mountains. “Again, not about you. You’re a father now. Act like one. If you were really concerned about things being ‘unpleasant’, you sure as hell wouldn’t be a shinobi in the first place. So,” Reina breathes. “either come with me like you’re the actual father of my son, or I can leave you here to whine.”

Eiji hisses. “I do  _ not _ whine.”

“Really? Then come the fuck on. Let’s go.” Reina brushes past him, whispering an annoyed, “Crybaby.”

He sputters, following after her to protest the rude name he was just called, complaining about the double standard because when  _ he _ calls her a name it’s childish. Reina ignores him and hugs little Reiji closer, and Eiji calms down, just a little, the apprehension clouding his mind settled into the background. Even when they’re nearing the hospital, he remembers that he loves Reina dearly, and Reina loves him just as much, and they have a beautiful child that they’re here for.

The anxiety doesn’t leave, but he doesn’t turn tail to run as soon as they reach the front desk. Eiji makes a point of commandeering the conversation between them and the receptionist, stating their business and confirming the appointment that they scheduled. The receptionist makes a call before addressing them politely.

“Dr. Goto will be right with you. Please make yourselves comfortable in the waiting area.” She gestures to an open room lined with chairs, but Eiji barely pays attention, his throat struggling around the lump that’s formed.

“Doctor who?” He demands, more than asks, expression tight with anxiety. “I want another doctor.”

The receptionist furrows her brow and blinks. “I’m sorry, sir, but Dr. Goto is one of the few pediatricians available right now. You can switch after your second appointment.”

A brown hand clenches Eiji’s wrist, tightly, and he follows it up to Reina and her  _ very _ displeased expression. “Stop pestering the receptionist, would you?” She offers the woman a strained smile. “C’mon, the doctor is gonna be here soon. Thank you for your assistance, ma’am.” After pulling him into the waiting room, she pivots and drags her eyes along his face, searching for something that she probably doesn’t find. “What’s going on, Eiji? You’re acting weird.”

“It’s—” He starts, before looking at the baby in her arms. “Nothing important.”

Reina glares, mouth opening to form another pointed remark, he’s sure, but closes when little Reiji starts to squirm and cry. She sinks into a chair and begins the process of cooing and shushing to keep the baby calm, gently rocking him in her arms. Eiji, relieved, slumps down beside her and observes the many tiles littered across the floor.

Fifteen minutes pass exactly like that, Reina calming the baby and Eiji pushing aside his simmering vat of emotions in favor of counting the tiles on the waiting room floor. Eiji glances over at Reina every few minutes, but she pays him little mind. He’s going to have to apologize after this, and offer an extremely uncomfortable explanation  _ that he totally won’t lie about _ … Eiji clicks his tongue, slumping further into the chair.

He’s almost drifted into a nap when a voice calls out his name. It’s a familiar voice. So familiar that it makes his chest seize, and his throat close, and his vision swim. 

Eiji remembers that voice, whispering sweet words into his ear, groaning a quiet symphony of sounds, ones that he wouldn’t mind  _ forgetting _ . He remembers the desperate hands, the sweat on his skin, remembers enough to feel the phantom touch across his thighs. He remembers feeling so utterly cared for, so spent, so satisfied, in a way he’s never been before. Eiji begins to drown under the memories, the ones he thought he’d thrown away forever, when a finger flicks his head and leaves a throb in its place.

“Eiji, get up, the doctor’s here. Such a slowpoke.” Reina teases, stabbing her pinky into his cheek. She stands and adjusts Reiji at her side.

“Oh. The doctor, right.” He pushes out of the chair, stuffing his hands into his pockets to hide the trembling. “Right, right.”

Eiji angles his gaze down, walking to the entrance of the waiting room, not looking at Reina and Reiji, and certainly not the doctor. He isn’t ready for this reunion, will never be ready, but it didn’t matter and that’s the point. Reina was right, this isn’t about him. It’s about their beautiful, soft little baby boy and he needs to get that in his head. So, resolutely, though with a slight shudder, he lifts his stare.

“Hello,” The doctor smiles before continuing. “I’m Dr. Goto. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but we’ve definitely met before.”

Goto Hansuke, pediatrician and medic-nin, with warm hazel eyes and even warmer touch. Hansuke had always been a pretty boy, even in their Academy days, attracting many girls and flirting with most of them. He’s calmed down since then, though the playful edge hasn’t departed from him completely. Eiji withstands the weakness in his knees and the building desire to scream, and replaces it with a layer of disdain instead.

Reina smirks at Hansuke, shifting Reiji once again. “I remember you trying to flirt with me soon as we met. You still breaking hearts, huh, Hansuke-san?”

“Breaking hearts?” He has the shame to be a little sheepish. “I wouldn’t call it  _ that _ .”

“So that’s a yes, then.” Eiji says, plainly.

Hansuke cuts him a curious glance before it melts into a grin. “Ah, Eiji-san, I see you’ve been busy. Who’s this cute little baby here?”

He’s sizzling with the urge to rip his own throat out, but somehow, this guy is absolutely carefree, unburdened, basically floating through the air like a goddamn angel. Eiji glares and clicks his tongue one more time, for good measure.

“He’s my son, obviously.” He snips.

Reina swoops in and chuckles. “Don’t mind him, he’s been grumpy since we got here. This adorable boy here is Reiji, isn’t he cute?”

“Of course!” Hansuke agrees, painting on a professional smile. “Alright, pleasantries out of the way, I’ll be taking you two to the pediatric wing so we can give Reiji-kun his checkup. I heard that something odd happened after the pregnancy, right?”

Reina sidles up next to him as he guides them through the halls, and Eiji keeps his distance, following after like a pesky shadow. It gives him time to decompress instead of feeling like a limp dishrag, especially with Reina distracted by the idle conversation. His head is throbbing, probably from the mental and emotional strain he’s put himself through trying to pretend like Hansuke is a figment of his imagination. Eiji had prayed over and over for the last two years, hoping that a deity would take pity and wipe it all from his memory.

He isn’t that lucky, so he’s stuck recalling what Hansuke’s tongue feels like on and  _ in so many places _ — Eiji wants to shrivel up and die. He pauses in his stride and holds his breath, before reminding himself, morosely, that he does have to continue walking and breathing lest he draw unwanted attention.

After minutes of quiet brooding, Hansuke opens a door to a small room with a few cabinets and a high, firm bed, probably where the children sit. He grabs a clipboard and goes through a list of questions, taking note of their answers, and giving them a bit of additional advice for child care. 

“Now, if I’m understanding correctly, Reiji’s chakra coils seem to be too advanced for his age. In addition to that, the premature chakra he possesses is imbalanced. This is cause for some concern. Either it’s a serious medical condition or it's a genetic mutation.”

“Genetic mutation? Is that bad?” Reina asks.

Hansuke hesitates for a moment. “...Not necessarily. By genetic mutation, I mean it could be the development of a genetic ability, like a kekkei genkai, but that’s only one of many possibilities.” Hansuke smiles. “I’d like to start his physical examination. Please place him flat on his back, if you would.”

_ Dr. Goto _ goes about examining Reiji, releasing some of his chakra, just like Inori did, to analyze his organs, his coils, and the chakra ‘imbalance’ as they’ve called it. After finishing the examination, he asks them to fill out some paperwork before they go. Eiji hoped that Reina would do it, but she rushed off to find a bathroom, cursing about the benefits of pregnancy. Confused and slightly put-out, Eiji picks up the papers.

He hadn’t spoken for the entire time they’d been there, which isn’t hard since Reina loves to talk. Eiji does, too, but he discovers quickly that speaking in the presence of Hansuke means trying not to vomit and cry all at once. Jitters climb up his legs and scuttle across his fingers, and Eiji makes a conscious effort to restrain his nervous habits. Every few seconds he glances up from the paperwork and sees Hansuke cooing over Reiji. It makes him weirdly uncomfortable.

He clicks his tongue and pencils in a few answers.

“You do that quite a bit, don’t you?” Hansuke says, startling Eiji with his voice. He’s moved closer, hovering near the chair Reina had been sitting in.

“...What?”

Hansuke scrunches his face into a pensive look and he clicks his tongue, imitating Eiji’s habit. He can’t hold it for long, though, and snickers immediately after. “That. When you’re mad, or nervous, or annoyed.”

“ ‘s called a habit.” Eiji murmers, lips thinning.

“Ma, Eiji-san, you’re so old but you’re still like a kid!”

Eiji sputters, flapping his lips like a dying fish. The paper in his hand crinkles and the pencil he’d been holding breaks in half. He stares down at the splintered wood, pale with mortification as Hansuke snorts, hiding his smile behind a hand.

“You want another pencil?” His eyes twinkle with amusement.

“You’re such a brat, Goto.”

Hansuke crosses his arms and flutters his lashes like a depressed maiden. “So mean, Eiji-san. I thought we were friends.”

Eiji pauses at that. Friends, right. Eiji is a proud man, assured in his marriage and his career. He can handle a friendship.


End file.
